


Two Can Keep A Secret

by DesertSkald



Series: A Dream of Dragons [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Aldmeri Dominion, Aldmeri politics, Altmer being terrifying, Angst, Dreamwalkers (Servants of Vaermina), Dreamwalkers are terrible people - You've Been Warned, Eyes of the Queen, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, Mention of graphic death, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-01-30 23:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertSkald/pseuds/DesertSkald
Summary: The Aldmeri Dominion is in danger of falling apart at the hands of Estre, with Firsthold bearing the brunt of her and Mehrunes Dagon's rage. On the near opposite side of the Summerset Isles, several members of an Aldmeri noble family inquire about joining the fight as Eyes of the Queen. Suspicious, Razum-dar tasks one of his most trusted Eyes to look into this family and their motives.Those were the circumstances that brought Karim-dar to Ceynensel, ancestral estate of the Vicarians. It would be several weeks before anyone learned why he never came back.





	1. The Gazebo

**Author's Note:**

> As a personal note, in my head at least Karim-dar has a voice-claim to Londo Mollari, so there's that.

ALINOR (the island, not the city) was not that different from Auridon, Karim-dar found. Steep cliffs with views of the endless Etheric seas. Manicured forests of maple, laurel and larch. Towering spires with windows that gleamed like crystal. Snooty Altmer who kept their hands over their pockets when he walked past.

  
His latest assignment led him to a noble’s family home somewhere in the hills north of Alinor (the city, not the island) and west of Shimmerene. While he had trouble finding it on the map - and following the narrow road leading to it - at long last he arrived, in time for his meeting with the Kinlord.

  
Kinlord Rulinar Vicarian, the current patriarch of the esteemed family, was only too happy to have Karim-dar visit him at his home on the Queen’s behalf. While this looked good on paper (the letter was of very good quality and smelled nice, he was still tempted to fence it) the welcome made Karim-dar uneasy.

  
Too often in Auridon, Altmer welcomed him with false smiles, convinced he couldn’t find their secrets because he was a half-witted cat. They were not so welcoming when they found out the hard way that he could find any secret no matter how buried. Too often he was begged for help only to find the beggar was the culprit. Too often...

  
Razum-dar agreed with the knot in Karim-dar’s stomach: ‘this invitation stinks like last month’s catch’ was the exact term Raz had used. He warned Karim-dar to be careful, as he would be going in alone. Raz was tied down with the hunt for High Kinlady Estre, and the rest of the Veiled Heritance. There would be no help if Karim-dar was, once again, in over his head.

  
Karim-dar climbed off the pony and led it to the stables. A horsehand guided the mare the rest of the way, leaving him free to look around and stretch his legs. Well, as free as a strange Khajiit in a Kinlord’s home _could_ be left unsupervised.

  
Ceynensel, the secluded estate of Kinlord Rulinar Vicarian and his family, boasted of a flooded Aldmeri ruin in its gardens. The estate was named after it, despite the ruins being no more than five interconnected rooms. A large rotunda had been built over it and the modest lake, with a floor of glass so one could look down into the ruins as they walked.

  
Karim-dar’s hairs bristled at the thought of that. Buildings over water were all well and good, but why would Altmer insist on looking at the water below? Did they like the hair-raising feeling that came with standing over water?

  
The gardens, thankfully, were in the back of the house. Karim-dar approached the front. The doorman held his arm - a very solid, armored arm - across the door as Karim-dar reached the last step. Karim-dar waited, patiently, swishing his tail slowly. The doorman didn’t move. Karim-dar blinked and cleared his throat.

  
 “Can I help you... Cat?”

  
“This one has an appointment with Kinlord Vicarian.” The same icy glare he’d found every Altmer wore when looking at him. “Kinlord Rulinar? This one was told this glorious estate belongs to his family, yes? Was told to meet him here?”

  
“Eralon? Who is that?” An Altmer in fine dress walked across the marble entryway to the door. His eyes lit with recognition. “Aah. Karim-dar, yes?”

  
Karim-dar gave a prolonged nod, twitching his tail for effect. The nobleman smiled and laid a hand on the doorman’s shoulder.

  
“Thank you, Eralon. He is expected.”

  
The doorman gave the quietest of groans (which Karim-dar heard of course) and retracted his arm. Karim-dar stood up a little taller and walked inside. The nobleman walked with him, hands behind his back.

  
_This must be Kinlord Rulinar_ , Karim-dar thought. He did fit the description Razum-dar had given him: an Altmer slight of build and quintessential for their race. For Altmer, that meant he had hair bright as the sands of Elsweyr, with eyes of honey and features that could cut paper. Also light enough that a good wind would knock him over. Very typical, very boring.

  
“Our apologies.” Rulinar stated suddenly. “He’s an older mer, has some of that sentiment regarding the younger races.”

  
Karim-dar shrugged. “This one has come to expect it. He is never disappointed.”

  
Rulinar laughed at that. “Well, I suppose I can’t fault you there. Aah- we can talk in the rotunda. The local guild insists there will be a shower of stars out tonight and I’d rather not miss it.”

  
Karim-dar’s ears flattened at the thought of seeing this see-through floor for himself. However, as Razum-dar was so fond of saying, being the Queen’s Eyes meant doing the tasks that must be done, no matter how dangerous, terrifying or embarrassing.

  
Karim-dar’s frowned and flicked a look up the stairs. After all they’d been through, Razum-dar had still never explained about that guar in the temple...

  
Karim-dar sighed. Razum-dar was certain this task was important, so he would do it. That old cat would owe him a drink just to make his fur stop standing on end, but the job would get done.

  
“If Kinlord Rulinar wishes to look at stars, this one doesn’t see why not-”

  
“Oh, no no no!” He exclaimed, pausing to elaborate. “I’m Illuvitar, his son. No, Father has already gone to bed. Do come this way.”

  
The mer walked down the hall to a large entryway; a patio lay beyond with a path to the gardens. The gardens, Karim-dar remembered, with the see-through floor over a lake. It was somewhat peculiar, going to bed at this hour. True, Altmer were strange people and they did many funny things, noblemen especially, but crawling into bed at five in the afternoon was _odd_.

  
“Perhaps this one’s eyes are not as sharp as they used to be, but that is Magnus in the sky, yes?” He asked, reluctantly following the Altmer out to the hedges.

  
“Yes. Father just has his schedule and he keeps to it like clockwork. Father sent that letter without hearing all of it and by the time _I_ learned of it- well, you were already on your way.” Illuvitar paused beneath a statue of an Altmer wrestling with a snake - or perhaps it was a snake betmer underneath the coils. It was hard to be certain. “But surely I can answer any questions you have for Father. I do work very closely with him, as he’s close to... passing on the mantle, as it were.”

  
Karim-dar stared at Illuvitar, his great brown eyes unblinking as he thought. This was the sort of thing he expected: the shuffling around, the false smiles, the insincere apologies. So there was something going on with Kinlord Rulinar then. He would follow up on that.

  
“This one supposes if he has more questions, Kinlord Rulinar will be awake in the morning, yes?”

  
Illuvitar laughed. “I expect so, yes.”

  
The rows of manicured maple trees parted. The hedges led to a lake ringed with paving stones and modest areas for contemplation. A bench here and there. Beautiful golden flowers that glowed: sunbells, he believed they were called. Butterflies and songbirds. That thrice-damned gazebo spanning the lake.

  
Illuvitar crossed the lattice bridge and withdrew the pieces for a telescope from nice-looking boxes. Expensive boxes. The kind with stuffing on the insides perfectly molded to the contents. The kind that sold well at the Refuge.

  
Karim-dar remained on the wooden bridge just underneath the eaves, trying to ignore the shimmer of ripples underneath the Altmer’s feet.

  
“Now...” Illuvitar gazed fondly down at the cylinders in his hand. “What can I help you with?”

  
“You work with Kinlord Rulinar, yes?”

  
Illuvitar laughed. “I _did_ just say that. Your hearing is impeccable.”

  
Karim-dar shrugged. He would beat a little around the bush, see what scurried out. “So you would notice if, say, anything strange were going on? With the servants, visitors, neighbors?”

  
“Karim-dar, there is nothing at Ceynensel that escapes my attention.” He sighed and looked down at Karim-dar, mildly offended. “I do wish you’d answer my question truthfully. We’re all friends here.”

  
“Karim-dar only asks because there are rumors that the Veiled Heritance has been seen coming and going from this place.”

  
Illuvitar looked out at the lake and frowned. “Oh, I find that hard to believe...” He muttered.

  
“This one has heard it.”

  
A slight blush to his cheeks when he answered. “And?” Illuvitar asked. Lightly. As if they were speaking of the weather. He continued attaching the various tubes and lenses to this telescope. Perhaps... he wasn’t listening?

  
“Forgive this one, but... is that all you have to say?”

  
Illuvitar shook his head and chuckled, setting down the telescope. He continued laughing as he sat down in a sunny spot and poured himself a cup of tea. He’d stop, smile, then laugh again. Karim-dar flicked his ears. It was not the laugh of someone evil, or malicious, more like... someone who was in on a joke, and Karim-dar was not.

  
“Young mer, I’m afraid you don’t understand. ‘Veiled Heritance’ isn’t a word Eyes of the Queen throw around these days without proof. If you were serious in these accusations, you wouldn’t have come to Ceynensel alone at this hour.”

  
“What makes you think this one is alone?” Karim-dar growled.

  
“- _Don’t_.” Illuvitar sighed. “It wasn’t a threat. You’re quite safe here, so long as you keep your fingers to yourself. Wouldn’t want the Watch to find that amulet you’re so fond of, would we?”

  
Illuvitar sipped his tea quietly and checked a pocket watch. Karim-dar’s tail was waving from side to side in bold strokes. He hadn’t expected Illuvitar to know he was an Eye, but then he wasn’t exactly hiding it. At least, he didn’t think he needed to when he came to Ceynensel.

  
“Threats and blackmail; this one does not think it looks good for you.” Karim-dar said slowly, keeping his hands free in case things - as they always did - turned ugly.

  
Illuvitar sighed (a longsuffering sigh) and set his tea down. “Sweet Lady, grant me patience...” He muttered, perhaps thinking again Karim-dar did not hear him, but he did.

  
Illuvitar straightened his robes. “You’re new at this ‘Eye’ business, are you not?” He gestured lazily, continuing before Karim-dar could rebut. “Oh, you can meld with the shadows well enough - any of your kind worth their skin _can_ \- those ears of yours can hear many things thought secret. Nobody notices _one_ cat among the herd our Beloved Queen dragged home, and that is how you’ve lived this long.”

  
Illuvitar cleared his throat and wiped the teacup down. It was a pretty teacup, made of seashells with a handle sculpted like flower petals. It would fetch good price in a Refuge, if things went sour, if he didn't break it.

  
“This one thinks you like the sound of your own voice.”

  
“Do put your fur down. I’m not insulting you, your organization or the monarchy. We’re just having a little chat.” Illuvitar tapped his legs and walked back to the telescope, glancing at the sky. Magnus was starting to set. “Seeing as you’re new to the business - and an outlander besides - I will let you in on a little ‘intel’ your superiors should have passed along.”

  
Illuvitar picked up the telescope and attached legs to it, walking around the gazebo for a good place to put it down. Karim-dar remained standing on the bridge. As it got darker it was harder to see the water-

  
Illuvitar clapped his hands and crystals underneath the gazebo shone with red light. Karim-dar’s stomach dropped and his mouth opened slightly as he started panting. Now he could not only see the water, but it looked like blood. Altmer were very, _very_ strange indeed.

  
“My family has been in the business of information since the Sload sacked Skywatch. We have served the Royal Family faithfully and without fail for two _thousand_ years. For as long as there has been a King or Queen of Alinor, there has been a Vicarian in their court.”

  
Karim-dar swallowed. “This one is impressed. That kind of legacy does not come easily, but it is safer to ‘not put all one’s eggs in one basket’, yes?”

  
“Of course. However, can one really be blamed for supporting the future monarch? I would think anything else treason. We supported Prince Naemon and the High Kinlady, yes. The majority of Summerset did.”

  
Illuvitar adjusted the telescope one last time and pointed it at the eastern sky. A few stars were already coming out of Magnus’ shadow, and Jode was nearly eaten away. Jone was nowhere in sight.

  
What the Altmer said was true. Queen Ayrenn had been gone for nearly ten years; even Altmer couldn’t wait that long without a monarch. Prince Naemon’s ascension was the natural order of things, but so was Queen Ayrenn’s coronation once she returned. The other races - even the other alliances - accepted her as the Altmer Queen. From the opinions of the natives however, you would think the Altmer were the last to know.

  
“But you continued supporting them, yes? Even after Queen Ayrenn returned.”

  
At last Illuvitar looked uncomfortable. Finally, he was getting somewhere.

  
“There was a... extended period of courting with her Majesty, yes. You must understand: we had no idea what she was talking about with this ‘Dominion’ business. Allying with the Bosmer and Khajiit? Making a bid for the Ruby Throne when the last three dynasties have fared _so_ well?” He waved his hand. “It’s a very noble goal, but without the plans to achieve it, it’s little better than a child’s dream. Not something anyone would put their gold or their names behind. We had to be sure she had the power and the will to fulfill her intentions. That’s all.”

  
“And you doubt her?”

  
“Now? No!” Illuvitar’s shout echoed over the topiary. “She’s a spirited woman, if soft-spoken and perhaps too kind-hearted for her own good. I daresay Estre’s betrayal has hit her rather hard. Leadership does require an iron fist at times, and I’m not sure she has the stomach for it. Not that she needs one; she has others to do her dirty work, so long as she doesn’t pry too closely.”

  
That last sentence was said with a knowing stare at Karim-dar. Yes, the Eyes did the dirty work for Queen Ayrenn. They went where she could not, heard what she should not. Did things no monarch should do, for the glory of the crown, the Dominion.

  
“If you do not doubt her, this one wonders why there are rumors of traitors and terrorists coming to Ceynensel?”

  
“There was something off about them. ‘Summerset belongs to the Altmer’ is all well and good if more than a trifle trite, but there were... rumors lately... Whispers of dealings with Daedra.” Illuvitar finished, drinking the last of his cup.

  
He was silent for a while, staring out at the lake. Karim-dar stared with him, his thoughts drifting to the anchors that pierced every bare patch of countryside. The foul things that were summoned by the Worm Cultists. The horrors that Auridon and Razum-dar were dealing with even as he had this ‘friendly’ chat with Illuvitar...

  
“I must admit if my family has a failing, it is our curiosity.” Illuvitar said, breaking his contemplation. “We’re so used to knowing everything that the hint of the unknown is the most intoxicating drug.”

  
“Everything, Illuvitar? Even the contents of other’s pockets?”

  
He hadn’t told anyone about the amulet of waterbreathing he had ah, ‘borrowed’ from that lighthouse outside Vulkhel Guard. Nobody had noticed it missing after the lighthouse’s destruction, and he’d only ever shown it to Connynque. Did she work for them? Had she mentioned it to a buyer and word got around? Karim-dar wondered if these Vicarians had eyes of their own in Auridon, and if they were friendly or not.

  
Illuvitar waved his hand dismissively. “Please. A few questions here and there, a few coins left in forgotten places- you know how it is. We know everything worth knowing. And a potential ruler of Alinor consorting with Daedra is something _very much_ worth knowing.”

  
He stepped away from the telescope and stood straight, suddenly serious. Even the mirth in his eyes was replaced with something dead.

  
“I can assure you, Karim-dar, and your superiors, that every member of my family - even those scions without ‘Vicarian’ to their name - has severed all ties with the Veiled Heritance. You have my word and my life on that.”

  
Karim-dar studied the future Kinlord in the faint starlight and the reflected red water. So he did understand he was investigating his entire family. Razum-dar had explained (under heavy prodding) that members of this family were asking about the Eyes. Asking about becoming agents.

  
Knowing that spying or something like it ran in their blood, it wasn’t hard to see why they wanted in. There was still the question of if they could be trusted. Such a blanket statement was hard to take seriously. No one could speak for _everyone_ in their family. Every family had its black sheep.

  
“You are so sure of this?”

  
“Positive.” Illuvitar nodded with a smile. “You see, unlike _some_ noble families, we do not tolerate interaction with Daedra. At all. They’re- they’re _destructive_. Malicious. And extraordinarily cunning. Any of those is bad enough alone, but a combination of the three? Disastrous.”

  
He checked his watch again and frowned at the horizon, almost upset at the stars for following the Moons’ dance. “I wonder: did Estre really think Alinor would welcome her with open arms upon taking the throne, with all of Auridon a second Deadlands? What can she possible hope to accomplish now, besides a scorched earth?” He rolled his eyes, unrestrained ire in those golden irises. “But then, such things should be expected of Mehrunes Dagon’s lackeys.”

  
Karim-dar flicked his tail. It was not Illuvitar’s place, kinlord or no, to speak so ill of the Queen’s relations. It almost seemed they had danced around each other and now the bird had fled the bush, speaking openly. Yes, Karim-dar - even Razum-dar - had wondered such things in quiet moments. He knew Raz had, even if the older Khajiit did not put voice to it. It was not their place, no matter how true it was. It would hurt the Queen, were her Majesty to overhear, and neither of them would have that.

  
Still, the Queen was in Auridon, despite the Battlereave’s insistence that she be somewhere - anywhere - else at the moment. Auridon was many leagues from Ceynensel. If the Vicarians knew things about the Veiled Heritance, maybe things even Razum-dar didn’t know, it was Karim-dar’s duty to learn it.

  
“This one thinks she only turned to the Daedra after she had no other choice-”

  
“Oh don’t be _naïve_.” Illuvitar snarled. “One does not simply summon a Prince and demand a pact with them. It is a _very_ slippery slope and she has been sliding down it for years now. The woman allied with the _Maormer_ for Auri-El’s sake! She has dealings with Mannimarco!”

  
Illuvitar turned with disgust back to his telescope, twirling the dials and nudging it this way and that. Karim-dar walked off the bridge and onto the glass. He kept to the railings, in case the centuries old floor chose that moment to break at last.

  
“You have proof of this?”

  
“Somewhere." Illuvitar sighed and dusted his robes. He leaned back and studied Karim-dar with half-lidded eyes. "I don’t suppose you’d take my word for it?”

  
No. Something this important, this fantastical, Raz would insist on proof. Nothing less than correspondence between the former Psijic and the High Kinlady, or the word of her Eyes that they had seen such a meeting with their own eyes, would convince Queen Ayrenn of something so horrible. She was not one to believe bad things of anyone, which Razum-dar praised her for, not faulted her. To even hear rumors that High Kinlady Estre was capable such things would anger her, if there was not proof.

  
Even if their family were intelligence connoisseurs, the word of one Altmer - who may not even be trustworthy - was not enough.

  
“It is an interesting rumor. If true, the truth will come out, no?”

  
“Yes, I suppose it will.” Illuvitar nodded.

  
lluvitar stiffened suddenly and went back to the telescope. A few adjustments and twists of the knobs he gasped faintly.

  
“Aah, there you are.” He chuckled and reached for a quill, sketching quick illustrations in a velum journal.

“Magnificent are they not?”

  
Karim-dar shrugged. The stars were stars. The Moons were the jewels of the sky, but they were dying or laid to rest tonight. The Kinlord seemed to have forgotten him for the moment, heralding the end of their conversation. That was fine. Karim-dar still needed to search the manor for anything suspicious, a search best done when others were sleeping.

  
He made a show of yawning loudly, shaking his head and drying spittle from his whiskers and chin. Illuvitar turned.

  
"Forgive me. I'm sure you are tired and hungry from your journey here. Our cook has something prepared for you, and Corindar at the door can show you your room."

  
Karim-dar nodded and bowed, keeping one hand on the railing. "Karim-dar will see you and the Kinlord in the morning, Illuvitar."

  
He turned then and looked over the blood red lake, swallowing and tread shaking, sweating paws on the glass. He couldn’t steal anything tonight. No, that would be suicide. His last night however, he would pay the young kinlord back for making him walk over the lake back to safety. They would pay very dearly indeed.


	2. The Oubliette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adding that **Graphic Depiction of Violence** Warning cause I'm writing this next chapter and it got squicky quick, that and the wizard in this chapter.

CEYNENSEL rested in darkness, with Jode swallowed into nothing in the still hours of the night. Karim-dar peeled off the nightgown he had been given and slipped into something more suited for cat-burglaring. Barefooted, he pushed open the window shutters and climbed across the creeping vines to the next window over. He exhaled and plucked a tiny slip of metal from under his tongue, sliding it through the gap between boards to the window’s latch.

  
The latch clicked. Karim-dar’s tail swished beneath him and he eased the window open, looking inside. Still as empty as it had been when he checked earlier in the evening. Karim-dar climbed back to his window and pushed it to, then crept inside the manor again from the other window.

  
The Kinlord gave Karim-dar a room with a door that hadn’t been oiled in years. Altmer thought they were so clever.

  
Karim-dar padded down the hall, keeping his breathing low. He was no stranger to burglaring, but he usually did not do so on the Queen’s business. (When he knew he was on property of one of her enemies, however, he was helping the Dominion by helping himself, was he not?) The Vicarians were not her enemies. At least, he didn’t think they were. They were odd, yes, but Illuvitar claimed they were helping.

  
Raz would be the judge of that. But first Karim-dar would need proof one way or another. Illuvitar said they knew High Kinlady Estre was connected to Mannimarco, but wanted to only give his word on that. Either he was lying, or he did have something, but he didn’t want to hand it over just yet. Karim-dar bet it was the latter, it was just the matter of finding it.

  
He checked the study upstairs first, the one between the Kinlord and Illuvitar’s rooms, but found nothing about High Kinlady Estre or the Veiled Heritance. It was spotless beyond the usual levels of Altmeri house-servants, and Karim-dar suspected it was really only cleaned of dust for visitors. He did pull down one or two books mentioning their family and lineage, but he found nothing to suggest they lived longer than any other Altmer of nobility. Karim-dar flattened his ears and put the books back.

  
He crept into Kinlord Rulinar’s room next, heart pounding and tongue hanging against the top of his mouth as he looked for anything that might wake him up. Karim-dar stayed quiet and moved slowly, the quiet breaths of the Kinlord almost keeping time with his own heartbeat. This room had more in it and was certainly lived in, but he left it with more questions than he’d entered.

  
The Kinlord’s diary made mention several times of his trips out during the day or spending time in the sun. There was no mention anywhere of the High Kinlady or the Veiled Heritance, or anything of Her Majesty. His affairs revolved around his own family and a few of the other nobles, and their estates. Karim-dar shut the door behind him, muffling it with his palm. He shook his head and snuck into Illuvitar’s room, but there was even less of interest to him in there.

  
Karim-dar flicked his tail and returned to the study. He suspected vampires, but that was an ill-fitting answer to his questions. Illuvitar had no trouble sitting in the sun earlier, and there was nothing to his manner that suggested he was one. His teeth were normal, his eyes an Altmer hue, and his complexion suggested the blood under his skin was his own. Rulinar also looked normal, aside from the odd habit of taking early to bed. His diary mentioned several times he had done activities during the day and out in the open without bursting into flames or weakening in the light.

  
He had heard of a strain of vampires that could blend into society and were little affected by sunlight, but Karim-dar didn’t think ‘vampires’ was the answer. It was something else. He ran his hands over the books on the shelves. Something... different.

  
His nose twitched. Was that...?

  
Karim-dar held still, not even moving his tail, and listened. There was - very faintly - a hissing noise coming from one of the bookshelves, like trapped air escaping. It was muffled and almost too high pitched for even him to hear, but...

  
Karim-dar took a step toward the hall and waited. He took two steps back and the hissing was a little louder. Karim-dar walked about the room until he honed in on one shelf in particular on the wall sharing Illuvitar’s bedroom. His ears flicked: yes, it was definitely coming from here.

  
Karim-dar ran his hands over the wood searching for knots that were hollowed out and pressable. Finding nothing, he pulled down the books one by one-

  
Something clicked. Karim-dar pushed the book back up and lifted his finger to look at it. A purple book with _The Dreamstride_ in curling script on the spine. Fitting title for a secret passage best used when everyone was asleep. Hiding levers inside fake books. Altmer thought they were so clever...

 Karim-dar set the other books back upright and searched the top floor and stairs. The nearest guard was sitting in a lounge next to the fireplace downstairs, his head lolled to the left and drooling a little in his sleep. Everyone else in the house was asleep or at least in their rooms.

  
Satisfied that he would have the time needed to investigate this secret book without being surprised, Karim-dar crept back upstairs and pushed _The Dreamstride_ down again. The bookshelf slid away from the wall, revealing a flight of stairs coiling down into darkness. He expected some cacophony as rusted joints ground together, but the only sound was the hiss growing louder. The rollers were well oiled and didn’t look more than two years old, though the channel was old as the stones. Karim-dar swallowed and stepped inside the passage behind the bookshelf. Never a good thing...

  
He felt along the back of the bookshelf for the ‘door handle’ and was relieved to find there was one, in the hollow where _The Dreamstride_ should be. Karim-dar measured where it was and memorized it (he might need to find it in the dark) then slid the door shut.

  
Seconds after the stairs fell into darkness a red varla stone bloomed, illuminating the steps well enough to see by. Karim-dar still watched his feet as he descended, taking the stairs one at a time. The Vicarians were an Altmeri noble family, so really, he should expect their secret passages to be well-maintained. That didn’t make him feel any better. There could always be traps in the steps: a secret brick that released poison darts or a swinging axe.

  
The red-lit stairs wound down, down down, far beneath the manor, and the more the steps Karim-dar found the bigger the pit in his stomach got. Most people would hide a secret room about even with the cellar, digging down to one hole and putting a fake wall in so no one knew about the added space. This was beneath the cellar. Far, far beneath.

  
Karim-dar lost track of the stairs and the rotations after the two-hundredth step, but it wasn’t much after that that the stairs stopped, leading down to a bare circular chamber the size of the stairwell. He frowned and looked around for a door of some sort - this had to be the antechamber to a much larger room, or the ruins under the lake - but the stones didn’t budge. When he tapped the stones on the floor, he could hear there was air underneath them, but the only way he could think to get down there was a metal grate in the floor with a lock on it.

  
Karim-dar’s nose twitched. The grate was locked shut, but not entirely closed. There was a sickly-sweet scent eking out through the thin gap, and it was hissing. He looked around the room. The builders went through all the trouble of making this long staircase with a hidden bookshelf-entrance, putting a secret door in the floor at the bottom... but didn’t think about sound echoing around a small, tall room filled with nothing but air. He shook his head and pulled out the lockpick again. Altmer thought they were so clever...

  
The lock was difficult, he would give them that, but he had faced more challenging ones before and in a few minutes he had it open. Karim-dar tugged on the grate, opening it a little more, keeping his face away from the purple smoke that oozed out and billowed on the ground. When he felt his nose itching he closed the grate and held his nose, pulling a kerchief from his pockets. He blinked away tears and a yawn, suddenly tired.

  
Karim-dar dug his claws into his arm and scratched, so the pain would keep him awake. When that started to fail, he tried doing math, but Karim-dar was bad at math, so he focused on remembering the odd ditties he learned as a child in Elsweyr. The hopping song; the sweetroll rhyme; the ballad of Salas the silly Senche.

  
The sleeping smoke seeped into the floor at last, but he was still yawning despite trying not to. Karim-dar slid the grate open again, for a few moments, then closed it again for a few minutes. That pattern seemed to work or at least did not make him more tired than he already was. It felt like hours later that he opened the grate and the smoke coming out was thinner; less purple.

  
And he heard sobbing.

  
“Please...”

  
Karim-dar’s ears stood rigid and his back fur bristled down to the tip of his tail. He would not admit to panting as he looked inside the grate for the source of that voice. Karim-dar knelt down, tail flicking, and slowly pushed the grate open all the way. What smoke was still inside rolled up onto the ground, but didn’t come above his ankles and he made sure to keep his head well above that.

  
In the darkness with only two red varla stones in the bottom of the room, an Altmer or a Bosmer might need more light to see. But Karim-dar was Khajiit. He could not make out the colors, only shades in red, but he knew the cut of a Heritance wizard’s robes well enough from his time in Auridon. The Altmer was in some sort of pit down below him, underneath the grate. Karim-dar turned his head and stared down at the elf. What was a Veiled Heritance wizard doing in the Vicarian’s secret basement-?

  
Karim-dar hissed and spat as hands shot up through the grate, one gripping the bars and the other writhing as far up as it could reach. The hand waved frantically, clawing at the stone, but long as the Altmer’s fingernails were, they were not Khajiiti claws or nimble Bosmer fingers, and when his strength gave out the mer slipped back down into the oubliette.

  
Karim-dar stood up and leaned over carefully, keeping his legs well away from where he had seen the Altmer could reach. He did not trust Illuvitar’s word - the mer had not been proven trustworthy yet - but he had from Razum-dar’s own mouth that Heritance people were seen coming and going from the manor. It would be so easy for them to dress one up and stick him in a dungeon, feign how they were being tortured and the Vicarians were really the good people in all this.

  
It happened rarely, but Karim-dar had seen some very stupid Altmer in his time in the Isles. Terrible actors too. For some reason they went through all the trouble of tricking him then tried to murder him on his way back to Raz. Very stupid Altmer. The Bosmer at least accepted when they’d been caught and just tried to kill him, or immediately changed into the most penitent of citizens and swore to change their ways once he left.

  
But he was interested in the story the Heritance wizard, real or fake, had to tell.

  
“This one would like to know what you are doing here.”

  
“Get me out of here, _cat_.”

  
“Answer the question and this one will think about it.” Karim-dar said with a purr. “What is a Heritance wizard doing in a secret dungeon in the Vicarian manor? Hmm?”

  
“Vicarians?”

  
Even in the faint light, Karim-dar saw the mer’s eyes go wide, his fingers went to his mouth and he gnawed on the nails. Karim-dar cocked his head. So much for Illuvitar’s blanket statement of his family. It did not look good for their future as Eyes...

  
“You know them?”

  
“Everyone knows about them, cat, they’re one of the richest and oldest families in the Isles.” The Altmer spat. “Your ears are the size of dinner plates, how have you _not_ heard of them?”

  
“They are working with the Heritance, no?”

  
The wizard dropped his hands to his sides and stared up at Karim-dar. “If I was working with them would I be _immured in the basement?_ ”

  
“Perhaps you were not as good at your job as they would have liked.”

  
“I can assure you, the mer down there is not in our employ.”

  
Karim-dar spun, knives in hand, leaping over to the other side of the grate. Illuvitar stood leaning against the pillar of the stairwell, arms folded across his nightclothes. He didn’t move, didn’t even raise an eyebrow at Karim-dar’s weapons. Karim-dar stayed still, adjusting his grip on the knife hilts, watching Illuvitar’s mouth and fingers for the first signs of a casting spell.

  
This was the part where things went wrong, as they always did when dealing with Altmer. This was the part where he’d have to cut his way out through everyone in the manor. He’d found something he shouldn’t have, even if he wasn’t quite sure what that was yet. He could figure it out when he was far away from here.

  
“What’s going on?”

  
Neither of them answered the Heritance wizard.

  
“I demand you release me-!”

  
Illuvitar swung his leg out and pulled the grate shut with his foot. It stayed open, just barely, and the young kinlord glared down at it, pushing it to with his toes.

  
“I told them we needed that fixed...”

  
Karim-dar straightened his back. Illuvitar was between him and the stairs, and if he called out for help (if he hadn’t already) there was nowhere to go but the oubliette once someone blocked off the bookshelf. He flattened his ears but muffled the growl growing in his throat. He shouldn’t have let himself get cornered like this, he knew better.

  
“Someone’s been a very naughty kitten.” Illuvitar said at last, his tone almost implying he wasn’t speaking to Karim-dar. Karim-dar kept quiet and listened, but there was no one else in the room or the stairs that he could hear. “Do you know how hard it is to find one of their upper echelons who’s seen Estre but _hasn’t_ made deals with the daedra? It’s enough to drive you mad.”

  
Karim-dar did not answer, merely swallowed. It sounded like Illuvitar was trying to ignore this, his sneaking around and the oubliette’s discovery. The Heritance wizard still shouting to be heard beneath their feet. He was willing to play along, just as long as it would take to reach the top of the stairs. He could vault the bannisters and be out the front door for the stables - or the woods - before they could reach the house’s main stairs. But he had to play along first, pretend this wasn’t as bad as it looked.

  
‘Looked’ was the wrong word. On the surface there was little he’d done wrong, outside of snooping where he shouldn’t be but if Illuvitar forgave him the visit returned to normal. But something in his gut, something in the disquieting way Illuvitar stood and looked at him, told him it would not return to normal. His gut had rarely been wrong before, and it was telling him to run, Raz and the Queen’s business be damned.

  
Illuvitar held the back of his hand to smother a yawn, then ran his fingers through his hair. “What do I do with you, little cat?” He looked down at Karim-dar with half-lidded eyes, almost suggesting if he played along, they would both retire to their rooms and pretend this never happened. The longer he could go without fighting his way out, the better.

  
“You are...” Karim-dar swallowed, mind racing as to what Illuvitar wanted him to say. “Interrogating Heritance members to locate the High Kinlady?”

  
“I am heading that current line of inquisition, yes. We are helping in other ways but forgive me if I’m not inclined to share them.”

  
Karim-dar swallowed again, ignoring how dry his throat was. He forced himself to stand straighter, to shuffle his fight out of the fighting stance, to hold his knives looser and nearer their sheathes. _Play along._

  
“Karim-dar does not understand. Why would you hide this? Given the current, aah, _predicament_ of Auridon, the Eyes do not exactly frown on this sort of profession. If Illuvitar had simply said as such when Karim-dar asked, this one does not think much more would be needed in his report.”

  
Illuvitar scowled, turning up his lip. “Torture is so last century these days. Anyone who merely dabbles in the art is branded an acolyte of Mannimarco. Mind you, they’re not always wrong, but my family does have a reputation to uphold.” He ran his fingers through his hair again and sighed. “But there you have it. Information and inquisition frequently go hand in hand. We would prefer this were kept close to the breast, yes? There is an anchor not two days ride from here and the locals tend to get rather zealous with their pitchforks and fireballs.”

  
He just had to get to the top of the stairs.

  
“This one more than understands. It will be noted in the report.” Karim-dar nodded. Illuvitar smiled.

  
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled. Now I’m not sure what hours you keep but _I_ would prefer to head back to sleep.”

  
Karim-dar swallowed and nodded. Yes. Sleep. His room was far and away from the quickest way out of the house, but he would be quick. He could be to the door before Illuvitar could call the guard, if he played his cards right.

  
Illuvitar gestured to the stairs, intending Karim-dar to go first. Karim-dar kept his tail low, trying to hide how bushy it was, and walked toward the steps. His ears were standing straight, listening for the quick rustle of clothes or the scrape of steel, or the quiet warp of air as a spell crackled-

  
Karim-dar backpedaled down the stairs, into Illuvitar. Kinlord Rulinar was standing on the step just out of sight of the oubliette. How long had he been standing there?

  
Illuvitar placed his hands on Karim-dar’s shoulders and Karim-dar stiffened, reaching- but no, it wasn’t a grab to hold him down. The way Illuvitar’s fingers dug into Karim-dar’s soft leathers was almost protective.

  
“Father! I thought you were asleep.”

  
His tone suggested he was telling the truth. He was just as surprised to see the Kinlord as Karim-dar was. Perhaps the Kinlord did not know about the oubliette? Karim-dar’s ears flicked as he watched the Kinlord’s eyes narrow. That could explain much.

  
“This is Karim-dar - the Queen’s Eye you invited?” Illuvitar patted Karim-dar’s shoulders. “We can introduce you properly at breakfast-”

  
The Kinlord flicked his fingers - a spell - and his hand shot out to Karim-dar’s chest. The spell hit him first, and he couldn’t reach his knives or move out of the way- Illuvitar barely stepped aside before Kinlord Rulinar’s hand sent Karim-dar falling down the stairs to the floor.

  
“Father! What are you doing-?!”

  
“It has seen too much.”

  
Karim-dar gasped. All he could see was white. The back of his head burned- he’d hit it on one of the stairs then again on the floor. The pain rolled over him and took his breath away.

  
“ _We’ve discussed this_.” Illuvitar hissed. Karim-dar couldn’t move - paralyzed, he hoped only by the spell - but he turned his eyes down toward the stairs, sending sparks of pain down his neck. “We need his word for the Queen’s blessing? Cousin Eltheltur? Indalme? They will never let them join without an Eye vouching for them.”

  
“Words can be written, not spoken.”

  
Karim-dar panted. He thought he could twitch his fingers. Not enough to count as movement, but at least he knew it was the spell and not the fall that kept him lying on the floor. He had to get up. He had to run- he should have cut his way out of here when he first saw Illuvitar had found him. Panic set his veins on fire as he began to worry, for the first time, that he might not make it back from this mission alive. He’d stumbled on something too big, too blindly.

  
“We do not reveal ourselves to sleepers, Illuvitar.”

  
 “Yes Father.”

  
The sullen answer echoed quietly in the small chamber. Kinlord Rulinar took a step down the stairs toward Karim-dar. The look in his eyes made Karim-dar’s fur stand on end.

  
“Curiosity, as they say, killed the cat.”

  
His throat went dry. Karim-dar clawed with his hands, begging his limbs to move, but he could only curl his fingers with great effort. The Kinlord continued walking slowly toward him, drawing a hand out from its sleeve-

  
“Others will come.” Karim-dar rasped, now begging the gods that just his casting hand would work. “They will find your secret-”

  
“Don’t worry, little kitten. We have played this game of politics since your forebears walked upright.”

  
Kinlord Rulinar waved his hand and Karim-dar was lifted into the air with a spell. The Kinlord twirled his other fingers and the lock on the grate clicked open. Karim-dar was breathing quickly now. The grate was barely wide enough for someone’s shoulders-

  
The spell turned him, squeezing him headfirst through the narrow opening. It released him when he was halfway through and he fell the rest of the way. He had just enough control over his limbs again to land on his elbows, but they couldn’t support him and he fell over. Karim-dar hissed and reached for his head: the pain was white-hot-

  
The Heritance wizard leapt up for the grate again, his arms shaking as he tried to reach the latch and free himself. A blood-curdling scream rang out in the oubliette and up the stairs to the bookshelf door. A soft thud came before another scream, and the grate rattled as the Kinlord’s boot ground down onto it when the wizard lost his grip.

  
“Stars _blind_ you!” The mer screamed from the floor, clutching his hand to his chest.

  
The grate slammed shut and there was a metal click as the lock settled shut on top of it. The Heritance wizard was still screaming, biting his lip now to keep the pain away. His eyes fell on Karim-dar, then down to Karim-dar’s waist. Karim-dar’s fur bristled. His knives.

  
The wizard lunged for him. Karim-dar reached for his better knife immediately, but his arm was still so slow to move- The wizard fell on him, hitting him with the hand that wasn’t broken and calling up a ball of fire-

  
Karim-dar stabbed him in the stomach, then the throat. The fire died in the wizard’s hand and he gurgled, grabbing at the hole bleeding from his throat. Karim-dar sat up - nearly falling down again - and stabbed him again, and again until the mer wasn’t moving. He pulled his knife free from the mer’s ribs, shaking his head. Wizards were mid-to-long range fighters, they were useless in close quarters. The elf should have known that, should have known better...

  
Smoke oozed out from the stones and small pipes in the walls. Karim-dar coughed, crawling away from the smoke and the wizard’s body. He couldn’t fall asleep, he had to stay awake, had to escape. Had to get back to Raz, to tell them not to trust the Vicarians. He still wasn’t sure why, but if they treated him as an enemy when he came on the Queen’s business, they could not be trusted. _They could not be..._ his claws scraped half-heartedly on the stones. _Trusted..._

* * *

 

When he dreamed, he dreamed of Auridon burning. Razum-dar fighting off a dozen atronachs and scamps coming for the Queen in the palace at Skywatch. Karim-dar ran forward to help him. They had been together so long, fought alongside each other in so many battles, and Karim-dar could see when Raz needed help. He couldn’t defend the palace’s steps by himself-

  
Karim-dar ran up the steps, stopping when he realized he was running down them, or rather down the stairs to the oubliette. His skin crawled. The oubliette. Illuvitar. They were going to lie to the Eyes, he had to warn Raz-

  
Illuvitar walked through the walls of the tiny chamber. Karim-dar wheeled back, reaching for his knives. He looked down. They weren’t there. Where were his knives?

  
He looked up. They were in the gazebo, but the small pond it stood over was now an ocean, stretching as far as he could see. Karim-dar cried out and wrapped his arms around the railings of the gazebo, digging his claws into the wood and carving up curled splinters. The water was red, and deep. He could see things swimming in there-

  
Karim-dar cried out again and clenched his eyes shut. He could hear the water lapping, roaring all around him, but he didn’t dare take his arms from around the railings.

  
A warm hand reached under his chin and lifted his head up, but he didn’t open his eyes. (He couldn’t.) He was shaking so hard his stomach hurt.

  
“Shall we begin?” Illuvitar murmured.


	3. The Moonstone Mine

VEILED HERITANCE members - Razum-dar hesitated to call them soldiers, they weren’t _that_ well trained - gathered around the cooking fire of their little camp. The camp was in the hills west of the Ornisse Mountains, just outside a mine that had been abandoned decades ago when the moonstone vein died only fifty feet into the rock, according to the records in Alinor. It was a long ways away from the Vicarian estate, but all the signs pointed to Karim-dar coming here. Weeks ago.

  
He hadn’t come back. Razum-dar grimaced and crept through the sparse trees, avoiding fallen sticks and clumps of leaves that would give him away. He was betting that in the dark of twilight he would see better than the Altmer could, but he still did not like sneaking around an enemy camp with the sun setting. But he was worried, more than he’d admit with words. Karim-dar was easily distracted by shiny, expensive baubles yes, but he would have sent word if he was delayed. All Razum-dar had was the one letter, promising to meet and discuss the Vicarians further in Firsthold.

  
He’d never stayed quiet for this long before.

  
There was one Heritance mer who was apart from the others, shoveling dirt into a hole. Razum-dar hopped up, one foot on a tree’s trunk and his arm hanging from a sturdy branch, looking down into the hole. Other Heritance members. Dead. Razum-dar’s tail stilled and he lowered himself down. There’d been a fight recently. Maybe Karim-dar had just found this camp but been driven off. Maybe he’d been picking them off for weeks and those were his most recent kills. Killing was not like him though; Karim-dar only killed when he got caught.

  
Razum-dar gave the shoveling mer a wide berth and circled the camp. There was no sign of him. He scratched the back of his head and rested his hand on the knot of a tree. A sharp knot. He raised an eyebrow and lifted his palm up.

  
Three scratches. Karim-dar’s claw mark. Razum-dar looked around but ran his hands over the marked tree again. He sighed and rolled his eyes at the bundle hidden inside the tree’s hollow just under the marks. A cache. He reached inside, drawing out a golden statue wrapped in dull leather. Razum-dar shook his head and wrapped it back up again, putting it back in the hollow. That one...

  
But Karim-dar had been here. Stolen something, from the camp no doubt.

  
So where was Karim-dar?

  
He walked slowly back to the camp near the fire, keeping to the shadows and hid behind their tents when the fire’s light threatened to reveal him. The Altmer had a quiet meal. One woman was sniffling, her nose red from rubbing and her eyes red from crying. The dead mer, he suspected. Razum-dar watched the others. He didn’t fancy taking on... eight of them himself, not counting however many were in the mine.

  
One mer sat on the bench around the campfire, his arm tight and fingers clenching the spoon he ate with. The others kept looking to him. He wasn’t the oldest, but he had the most elaborate tunic of the mer gathered. A safe bet that he was the commander, but he didn’t act like it. Razum-dar looked back toward the grave. Maybe he was the new commander.

  
The mer snapped his spoon down the bowl suddenly and stood up, muttering to himself. He set the bowl on the bench and walked over to a tanning rack, picking up a long knife with a wide, sweeping belly.

  
“Vorano-”

  
“He killed Salinyel.” The mer said through grit teeth. He spoke no other words to the other Heritance members, marching down into the mine with his knuckles white around the knife’s handle.

  
The other mer fell silent when he disappeared behind the rotting doors. Razum-dar frowned and watched them, keeping an eye on the mine door. Someone walked out - not Vorano - and turned to look back into the mine. He grimaced and hurried away.

  
“He’s not...” A woman asked.

  
She looked around at the others. The newcomer moved Vorano’s bowl, pouring one for himself and sitting down in his place.

  
“He’s in command now. Let him do what he wants.” The mer sighed, taking a spoonful of soup. “Maybe we can go home if it’s dead.”

  
Another woman, a blonde, tsked and even from behind her Razum-dar knew she rolled her eyes from the tilt of her head. “It’s his own fault, if Sal had kept a closer watch he wouldn’t have gotten his _throat_ ripped out.”

  
“Ildarre-”

  
Someone screamed inside the mine. Birds spooked and flew off to quieter parts and the mer around the campfire went white. The scream didn’t stop, only taking a quick breath before continuing. Razum-dar’s fur stood on end. The weak-stomached woman put a hand to her mouth.

  
“Oh stars, what is he doing?”

  
“Is he...?”

  
The scream came again, but this time there was a word in it.

  
“ _RAZ!_ ”

  
“At least _kill_ the cat first-”

  
Razum-dar shot a lightning bolt at the pack horse hitched to a tree branch. The horse screamed - almost as loud as Karim-dar was screaming - and twisted its head, pulling at the branch. Razum-dar cloaked and ran back to the woods, weaving between trees as the Altmer panicked and investigated. Karim-dar was still screaming.

  
He scaled a tree to a branch overlooking the fire, leaning out. His frost spell exploded over the fire, and the spell and overturned cauldron put out the flames, plunging the woods into darkness. Razum-dar leapt down, drawing out his blades. He dealt with the Heritance members as they came back, dodging flames and shock spells of their own, but his blades found every one. Karim-dar was screaming. When the last one fell Razum-dar raced to the mine.

  
It was barred from the other side. Razum-dar leapt back and threw himself at it. The wood was half-rotted, it should have been easy to break through, but it barely cracked under his weight.

  
“ _Karim-dar!_ ” Razum-dar yelled.

  
“Raz!”

He threw himself at the door again, focusing on one board that looked looser than the others. The joy in Karim-dar’s voice gave him hope. He was still alive. He was still alive. He hadn’t come this far to lose him now.

  
The boards above the bar blocking the door caved in. Razum-dar battered a larger hole into them and reached through, hauling the bar out of the hooks and shouldering the door open. He thought he saw a flicker of movement, a shadow fading - a cloak - but Vorano was standing over Karim-dar. Karim-dar wasn’t moving.

  
Karim-dar wasn’t moving.

  
Razum-dar drew out a throwing knife and hurled it, running down the short shaft to Vorano and Karim-dar. He buried his blade in the mer’s chest up to the hilt and shoved him over, kneeling down over Karim-dar.

  
“Karim- _Karim_. Say something.”

  
Razum-dar sat him up, stomach clenching at the blood. There was too much blood, soaking into the dirt and stones. Karim-dar’s white chin was dark-red and black, an ugly gash still flowing from his throat. Karim-dar’s hand shot up - the skin and fur had been peeled back, hanging limp from his forearm - and gripped Razum-dar’s shoulders.

  
“Don’t- traaah-”

  
Karim-dar seized. Stiffened. His eyes went wide. Razum-dar held him closer-

  
His throat gurgled, then Karim-dar went still. Razum-dar stared, unwilling to believe it. His hands started shaking and his throat closed up. Karim-dar was staring up at him, fingers still clenched into his shoulder. Razum-dar shook his head and held his friend to his chest. There was blood everywhere, he was wet and he was shaking.

  
He had been alive. Karim-dar had been alive and he couldn’t...

  
Razum-dar clenched his teeth together and bit back the tears in his throat. Necessity took over. He leaned, laying Karim-dar on the ground and-

  
He went to lay a hand on his chest but his fingers curled back. The fur and skin on Karim-dar’s chest was flayed, pulled back and draped across the shreds of his tunic. Razum-dar’s fingers dug into his palm, and they were shaking as he took the raggedly cut skin and laid it back across Karim-dar’s wet chest. (Bastards. _Bastards._ )

  
His hand was still trembling when he rested it on Karim-dar’s chest, and felt nothing. His hand went to Karim-dar’s neck, pressing against the veins flowing out and staining the white fur. The blood was flowing, not gushing as it had before. There was no pressure in the veins.

  
Razum-dar let out a shaky breath and straightened Karim-dar’s arms, his legs. “Raz is sorry, friend.” He leaned over and closed Karim-dar’s eyes. “You should not have gone alone...”

  
He bowed his head, letting silence be the prayer he couldn’t put words to. Then Razum-dar stood and turned, walking back to the camp. The gravel crunched under his feet, and thunder rolled in the distance.

  
Kinlord Vicarian had offered to send people with him. He was surprised - concerned even - that Karim-dar hadn’t returned to the Eyes. No one at the manor had heard Karim-dar planned to stay longer in Alinor before returning to Firsthold. Razum-dar held his breath, holding back whatever was rolling in his chest.

  
He should have taken the help. Karim-dar had been gone too long. Karim-dar’s letter even said they could be trusted (for now) and promised to explain in person. He should have listened to his instincts, that Karim-dar needed help, needed people. If he had brought a healer with him, or just more bodies to deal with the Heritance outside, Karim-dar...

  
Razum-dar exhaled and stroked his chin, skin crawling as Karim-dar’s blood clotted on his fur. There was nothing to be done about it; he was covered in blood, and so was Karim-dar. The horse whinnied, stamping its feet. He cocked his head. He would’ve thought the beast would be halfway to Alinor by now. There was a cart near it, filled with staves and crates, and Razum-dar had an idea of how to use it.

  
The wind picked up, the scent of rain on it. Razum-dar walked over to one of the tents, ripping it off the stakes and poles. He dragged the canvas down the mine shaft, laying Karim-dar on it and covering him with the edges. It was a poor pall for his friend, but out in the hills it would have to make due. Razum-dar bent down and lifted him up, holding Karim-dar’s head against his shoulder.

  
He set Karim-dar down in the grass as rain started to fall. When a space was cleared between crates for him, Razum-dar lifted him onto the cart. He pulled the canvas farther over, to keep out the rain. His hand rested on the bundle and he patted it. Razum-dar shook his head and fetched another tent canvas, draping it over the crates and Karim-dar’s body, tying it down to keep out the rain. It was the least he could do.

  
Razum-dar untied the horse and hitched it to the cart, climbing into the driver’s seat and setting off down a dirt trail grown over with grass. It would be a long, cold ride to Alinor, and his heart ached that he would be spending it alone.

  
He left the Heritance bodies to rot, which was better than they deserved.

* * *

  
It was several weeks - months even - before they finally ran Estre aground in Firsthold. Razum-dar would not speak ill of the dead: word would get back to the Queen, and while he wasn’t sure she would be upset, she would be disappointed. He would rather he upset her, if Razum-dar was honest. There was little he could do when she was disappointed except wait it out.

  
Razum-dar looked back to the palace of Firsthold, where she was inside - safe - with the Battlereeve and High Kinlord. She seemed disappointed now. It hurt her, he knew, to see the damage her sister-in-law had caused. The pain.

  
They still had to tell Prince Naemon. That was not a conversation he looked forward to having.

  
But the Prince was still a ways away, sent by Queen Ayrenn (at Razum-dar’s urging) to the isle of Alinor. It would be several days, if they were lucky, before he heard of his wife’s dead. Razum-dar had his suspicions, which he knew from experience her Majesty would not even entertain him _thinking_ in her presence. But it was good that the Prince was, at the moment, far away from the Queen, and what was left of the Veiled Heritance.

  
Razum-dar’s teeth clicked together and he grimaced, heading for the Mages Guildhall. The Eyes had secured the building; he was not implying the building had not been secured before by the Mages Guild, only that it was more so now. They would have to relocate to the castle soon. Despite being founded in this city, the mages were overly fond of their ‘neutrality’ in the war, and the last thing the city needed after Estre’s attack was nervous, antsy mages.

  
With Estre dead, there was no real telling which way the Veiled Heritance would lean. If they were smart, they would disband and call the whole thing off, but these particular kind of Altmer did not strike Razum-dar as being clever. They didn’t have the power to be a serious threat any longer, but like the Bosmer rebellion years ago, they could linger like an infection and cause trouble.

  
Best to cut out all the infected skin before it spread.

  
Razum-dar entered the guildhall, nodding to the nearest mage with the most embroidery. The Breton locked eyes with him and slowly returned the nod, watching Razum-dar climb the stairs to the upper chambers. The Eyes really only had a room or two to themselves, but they made good use of the space.

  
He had barely stepped inside the one they designated for intelligence before an Altmer girl stopped in front of him.

  
“Razum-dar? Sir.”

  
Her eyes shifted downwards, toward the bound papers in her hand. Razum-dar blinked. For a second, her eyes had looked full black, but it must have been a trick of the light. She bit her lip and unstrung the cord around the leather bindings, fingers fumbling.

  
He didn’t remember her name, or much about her (he could not remember everyone), but he knew only their best agents had come to Firsthold. That said, he could see she was new to the Eyes; she was behaving too much like a starry-eyed schoolgirl with a crush to be a seasoned operative. Or good at field work like Firsthold required, so- Razum-dar frowned. What _was_ she doing here then?

  
She flicked hair from her face and held the opened papers out for him. “I think I’ve found something you’ll be interested in.”

  
Razum-dar held her gaze as he took the papers, breaking contact only to read them. ‘Ildalme Vicarian’ was written neatly at the top. _Vicarian._ His heart skipped a beat and the corner of his eye itched; for a moment he was back in that mine outside Alinor, holding Karim-dar to his chest. Razum-dar wrinkled his nose and focused on the pages. Very interesting pages.

  
Correspondence between the upper echelons of Estre’s operatives. A spy in the Fighters Guild; odd movements, confirmed Veil code-words from Medareth’s reports, circled to grab Razum-dar’s attention. A butcher who targeted the ‘mongrels and beasts’. Something about a young girl, Arianas? Not much, but more than he had seen before. He recalled hearing Estre say the name once, when she thought he wasn’t listening, which was enough of a connection for him.

  
Razum-dar’s tail bristled. A lot of this report was old information, but the pattern connecting them was new. He flipped back to the top page. The most recent sightings were only a few days old, with tracks leading back months. But they were on the move now, on the run. With Estre in the ground, they wouldn’t stay in Auridon for long.

  
“Cariel.”

  
The Bosmer appeared at his elbow through the crowd and Indalme jumped. Cariel flashed her a smile but peered over Razum-dar’s shoulder - or rather around his arm - at the papers. Cariel scratched at a scrape on her chin; Razum-dar wrapped the cord back around the binding and held it out to the elf.

  
“Go find our friend from Khenarthi’s Roost.”

  
Cariel tapped the report to her brow then slipped away, behind a corner like she’d never been there to begin with. Indalme cleared her throat. Razum-dar turned his attention back to her, hairs settling as he saw there was no ulterior motive to the noise. Well, none except trying to calm her nerves after a scare.

  
“Good work, Indalme.” Razum-dar said.

  
Her eyes lit up at the praise, (faint only because he did not want it going to her head so quickly.) “I live to serve, sir.”

  
“This one believes. You have a head for this sort of thing. Keep it up and we’ll see it’s put to good use.”

  
“Thank you!”

  
Her cheeks bloomed red as her voice cracked into a squeak. Her hand went toward her mouth but only reached her neck before she snapped it back down to her waist.

  
“I- ahem. I won’t let you down, sir.”

  
She bowed and hurried away, settling down at a table and stacks of books, clutching one to her chest and whispering excitedly with another Eye. Also young, from the look of their face.

  
Egranor stood up on the foot-rungs of a chair, peering over the agents to get Razum-dar’s attention. Another Bosmer pulled him back down, handing him something to look at. Razum-dar exhaled. With Auridon (hopefully, finally) under control and no longer under siege, they could turn their attention to more pressing matters. Like the unrest growing in Valenwood, or the damned Covenant.

  
Razum-dar sighed and walked over to his own bound journal, with coded pages inside. He wanted to refresh his memory on what King Camoran could possibly want now, before getting dragged into a ‘discussion’ with one of his Rangers. He flipped open the journal, thumbing through the pages looking for the ones he’d written after speaking with the Silvenar. (A good mer. Shame about him and the Green Lady.)

  
A reedy scrap of paper, once bound with wax and stamped three times, slipped down to the floor. Razum-dar caught it and picked it up before anyone stepped on it, and his heart beat slower.

  
Estre was dead. King Camoran’s Ranger could wait. He was going to need a minute.

  
Razum-dar swallowed and sat down in the chair, unfolding the old letter and tracing the dashed strokes of a Khajiit in a hurry with the pad of his fingers. (Always a hurry. Too much of a hurry.)

_  
Raz,_

_This one still has doubts, but the Vicarians can be trusted - for now. Will explain in Firsthold. Found noisy rats in the storeroom; learned of possible cell hiding out in the hills south of here. May be heading for the capital. Investigating, then heading back to Shimmerene. Should be four days travel back to Auridon._

_  
Karim-dar_

_PS - you owe Karim-dar an entire barrel of lager! Kinlord insisted on talking on gazebo over lake - Karim-dar **knows** you know the one! This one’s fur will never lie flat again! Have it ready when we meet at Firsthold._

  
His fingers lingered over Karim-dar’s name, and they laid there as he stared at the words in silence. Razum-dar closed his eyes and folded the letter up carefully again, returning it to the safety of his bound journal. He’d lost too many seasoned agents - too many _friends_ \- to the Heritance. Astanya. Fasion. Fistalle. Zaban. Karim-dar.

  
Razum-dar’s fingers curled. Estre was dead. He wasn’t going to lose any more; not to the Heritance anyways. The Heritance would go the way of all things - into the ground (where they belonged) and the Eyes would go on. Thrive even. He would make sure the Queen’s Eyes protected her, and her Dominion. And he would make sure his friends hadn’t died in vain.

  
Razum-dar flicked through the pages again, finding the ones he was looking for, his tail twitching as he read. King Camoran’s problems had really started in Cormount, some ninety years ago...


End file.
